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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23057770">Your Turn</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangefriday/pseuds/orangefriday'>orangefriday</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Smosh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Humour, M/M, PWP, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2012-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2012-10-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:55:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,899</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23057770</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangefriday/pseuds/orangefriday</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>If Ian's at a bar and horny as fuck, it's Anthony's turn.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Your Turn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Oh, lookie here! The only smut I'll probably ever write in my entire life.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You know what would be fun?” Ian said, a near empty bottle of beer hanging from his fingertips. A happy, goofy smile played on the edges of his lips and the corners of his eyes twinkled in the dim lighting of the bar. Anthony watched Ian’s face with an expectant expression and his own laugh burst out when Ian teetered a little forward, obviously and clearly too drunk at this point. They had had three – or was it four? – beers and not to mention the Irish car bombs Ian had so persistently poured down their raw throats. It was a celebration for just the two of them in an incredibly tiny bar just on the outskirts of Midtown (because everybody else in the crew were “lame and too pussy to party” according to Ian.) for having finally finished shooting Food Battle. Everything in the bar with its wooden tables and bartenders in funny feathered hats swayed and blurred in Anthony’s tilting vision.</p><p>Anthony closed his eyes to rid himself of the vertigo and pushed Ian with his shoulder. The place was stuffy and the air stank of bitter alcohol and cigarette smoke with a tinge of musky sweat. It was a crowded Friday night so both Ian and Anthony were being jostled up against the wall at the edge of the bar by the growing number of customers. Ian didn’t seem to mind though and even looked like a languished king sitting on his stool with his legs apart, facing Anthony and resting his back on the wall. Anthony downed another large gulp of beer and asked, smiling, “What? Tell me, man.”</p><p>Ian laughed and the twinkle in his eye was even brighter as he leant close to Anthony until his breath was on his neck, hot and ticklish. “We should,” he started - and underneath, Ian’s foot found Anthony’s ankle, toeing up the hem of his jeans quite clumsily and unsuccessfully. “You know…” Ian went on, resting his chin atop Anthony’s shoulder, a grin brushing the hairs on the nape of his neck. Anthony’s spine trembled with a kind of pleasant heat, slow and teasing as Ian laughed again into his neck. He had a sneaking suspicion about exactly what Ian wanted – ideas that only fuelled the tangled ball of anticipation flashed by in his mind – but he was too busy enjoying the feel of Ian’s foot running lazily up and down his calf. The feeling grew even more as Ian shifted his stubbled chin until it settled onto the open skin on Anthony’s collar, spreading from there and wrapping around his fingertips. And it was almost like he was floating and he didn’t wonder why Ian was rubbing his face all over his shoulder and his neck and his arm even though it was weird as <i>fuck</i> and reminded Anthony of cats and kittens and fur blankets because it felt <i>good. So </i>very <i>good</i>. Any second he expected Ian to purr and when Ian did – only he hummed – it made the sensitive spot just below his earlobe quiver, sending a drill of a billion tiny good-feeling pinpricks of <i>good</i> into his skin.</p><p>Anthony finally managed a squeaky, “What?” before Ian raised a brow, staring up at him with rosy heated cheeks and then back down between them with a hand resting on his knee. Anthony looked down at their hooked feet and Ian’s fingers splaying open on his thigh when small ‘o’ formed on his lips. The atmosphere rumbled around them as people clunk glasses together and scattered celebratory cheers for the weekend but Anthony wasn’t really hearing any of it. The thought that maybe somebody was looking at them, or finding them out only hovered for a millisecond in Anthony’s mind. The only thing he could focus on right now was the drumming in his ears and the swelling of elation in the pit of his stomach. It must have been the alcohol that was filtering everything and drowning it all out until it was only Ian’s laugh and Ian’s touching and Ian’s face so close that Anthony had to look at him cross-eyed. Anthony could see the light dusting of freckles underneath Ian’s shimmering cool eyes and he found it so interesting that he’d never noticed it before.</p><p>“So yeah, do you want to?” Ian said, winking and squeezing <b>-</b> <i>hard</i> - on the inside of Anthony’s thigh. “We can do it in the bathroom. It’ll be like that time at ComicCon.”</p><p>The thought of ComicCon and the bathroom with Ian below him, pink cheeks hollowed out and red lips swollen round him made the nape of Anthony’s neck heat up like the bar had suddenly turned into a toaster oven and now the flames were licking up in and around his ears and burning its signature on his cheeks.</p><p>“You are <i>so</i> drunk, dude,” Anthony said, laughing nervously with hesitant excitement. Ian was almost molesting his whole leg, rubbing and touching and Anthony knew that he should probably put a stop to it before anybody saw <i>Was Ian even in his sane mind?</i> But it just felt so damn good; it was better than any drug-induced buzz Anthony had ever felt and it reminded him of ComicCon and all it’s wonders. His pants were shrinking by the second.</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Ian said. “But do you <i>want</i> to?”</p><p>“What the hell did we do at ComicCon?” he lied, instinctively leaning his shoulder against Ian’s chest when Ian moved back a little. He stopped rubbing Anthony’s calf and Anthony had to stop himself from frowning at the cold that was left.</p><p>“At ComicCon. Remember? C’mon, Ant!” Ian said with a raised voice and threw his head back, almost hitting the wall. “I sucked you off in the hotel bathroom… Don’t tell me you forgot.”</p><p>“Shhhhh! Not so loud!” Anthony hissed, and looked around. They were too engulfed by the crowd for anybody to pay any attention to them. “And yes, of course I remember.”</p><p>Ian grinned, trying <b>- </b>and failing <b>- </b>at being seductive. His chin sunk all the way into his neck and even though it probably wasn’t supposed to be attractive, Anthony thought it was endearing. “Then let’s do it again.”</p><p>“I thought that was a one time thing?” Anthony said, frowning a little and remembering how they vowed not to speak of it again while Ian had zipped Anthony’s fly up and had patted his crotch as a way of sealing the deal. It would later become the memory of many jerk-off sessions.</p><p>“Yeah, it was,” Ian said and Anthony felt his shoulders giving way to gravity, feeling all the <i>good</i> suddenly wash out of him. But then Ian stood and leaned in very close until his entire front was up against Anthony’s side, a very present and very obvious erection pressing onto the curve of Anthony’s ass. His breath hitched with surprise, stirring back up the sharpness of his arousal and his mind went elsewhere below him, but a palm pressing deep and hard onto the front of his pants brought him back to the very crowded and very <i>public</i> bar. Ian’s husky quiet whisper dripped like sweet, warm honey into Anthony’s ear, “But this time, it’s <i>your</i> turn to suck my cock.”</p><p>Anthony couldn’t see past the twirling aurora of lights dancing in his sight as the painful shooting of arousal took hold of him and the alcohol wasn’t doing him any favours. He didn’t notice Ian slipping behind a corner, between two very drunk girls with boobs the size of the mountains that Ian often went snowboarding on and around a corner into the washroom until one of the feathered-hat bartenders snapped his fingers in Anthony’s face.</p><p>“Are you and your boyfriend leaving now?” the bartender grunted impatiently, looking annoyed and at the growing crowd. It took Anthony a little while to process what he was saying.</p><p>“We’re not –” he said but nodded in defeat in the end, digging into his pocket for his wallet slowly and cautiously; his dick was taking up so much space in his pants. Thank God the place was eroded with shadows and the bar table hid his erection perfectly. He stuffed the bills in the bartender’s hand, wanting to ask what the deal was with the dumb feathers but thought better of it when he caught the bigger man’s knowing expression. He quickly turned around in his seat, wiped the sweat of his palms onto his jeans and let out a long breath as he stood up awkwardly. Stuffing both hands into his pockets, he tried desperately to move between the dense crowd with a raging hard-on and jeans so tight he thought his legs would fall off.</p><p>“Excuse me,” he mumbled, head down and shuffling between the two girls. He practically all but ran when he accidently grazed one of them and saw their shocked expression of horror. He entered and closed the bathroom door just before their exclamations of disgust.</p><p>“Finally!” Ian was washing his hands in the sink when Anthony walked in, looking at him through the mirror. “I’m getting wrinkly hands <i>and </i>blue balls waiting for your slow ass.”</p><p>“Ian, you know the hotel bathroom had a lock, right? And this,” he said, pointing to the door, “has no lock. It’s public. What if somebody walks in?” And as if to prove his point, the door moved a little all on its own.</p><p>Ian only stared at him in the mirror with an intensity that could burn and a gaze that zoned straight onto Anthony’s crotch. “I don’t care,” he said, voice taking on that husky deep tone earlier on outside and Anthony absolutely felt a seam or something rip open in his jeans because he didn’t think he could get any harder. And then Ian was swinging around and taking large, demanding steps towards him that <i>screamed</i> sex, and Anthony found himself being grabbed and pushed into the handicap stall, door slamming violently behind them, until his back was between the purple stall wall and the cold wet tile of the restroom. It stunk of disinfectant and stale piss in here but Ian’s absolutely predatory look took hold of everything inside Anthony; the smell wasn’t so bad when Ian was so close with his own mix of salt skin and soap scent. There was that tinge of alcohol on his breath that only made Anthony dizzier. Hands slid beneath his shirt and traced down his spine. He felt all his breath leave him as Ian’s tongue licked a slow, hot and tantalizing wet stripe up his neck. “It’s your turn, Anthony. C’mon, you know you want to.”</p><p>“No,” Anthony said, not sounding the least convincing as he squirmed breathlessly and bucked his hips up against Ian. God, that good feeling was getting better and better and just what the hell was Ian doing with his tongue that made Anthony’s toes curl and his balls tighten, reminding Anthony again just how stupid his jeans were right now.</p><p>“Suck me, Anthony,” Ian whispered, lips teasing Anthony’s bottom lip. The complete bluntness of Ian’s demands almost made Anthony laugh but then, somehow, through the distracting, unbearable nipping and licking and kissing, Ian got his hands into Anthony’s jeans, wiggling and gripped onto his dick. Anthony gasped as a thumb flicked his already wet head and pressed down at the tip – <i>hard</i>. “I want my cock in your mouth and I want to fuck you so hard, Anthony. And you’ll love it, you’ll fucking <i>love</i> it.”</p><p>“God, you’re horrible,” Anthony said, clenching his eyes shut and clutching onto Ian’s shoulders as a hand grabbed hard around his ass, pulling at his too-tight pants. “Fuck these jeans!”</p><p>Ian's laugh rumbled into the hollow of Anthony’s throat, and taking his hands out from where they fit so well in Anthony’s pants to work at his zipper. He whimpered at the loss of warm fingers round his throbbing dick but when Ian managed to unclasp the button, biting onto Anthony’s Adam’s apple and freeing his cock, he let out a pleased sigh and pressed his erection against the hard fabric of Ian’s thigh.</p><p>“You’re so hot,” Ian whispered, holding Anthony tight and gliding his fingers down the length of his cock and up again, teasingly light and fist twisting as Ian’s damned thumb swiped the slickness of the tip again. He felt dizzy with want and a hot white heat rose up from the back of his throat but Ian caught it with his mouth, tongue flicking out and tasting every surface of Anthony. He sucked hard on Anthony’s top lip and it was then that Anthony almost lost it, digging his nails into Ian’s shoulders and feeling the soft curve of his waist, he let out a half-choked-out cry. A few more dirty mutterings all consisting of words like “suck” and “cock” and “fuck” and hips that bumped together until Anthony thought the world would collapse under him. Then a surge of satisfied desire rushed past his body, <i>through</i> him and lifted him somewhere above the both of them; he had to clutch onto Ian lest the spasms of his ecstasy made him fall.</p><p>And then Ian was grinding into him, panting and puffing quick urgent breaths and muttering Anthony’s name over and over again in his neck. Ian’s hand was still pumping Anthony’s softening dick, gathering the wet whiteness in between his fingers. Anthony thought Ian sounded so sexy even if he was a little pathetic, moaning and groaning as he tried to hump Anthony into the wall with his jeans still on. Somehow, he managed to turn them around earning a harsh grunt from Ian as Anthony slammed him into the tile, his head falling back and exposing all that milky skin for Anthony to take.</p><p>He pressed a hard kiss into Ian’s mouth, tasting beer and something sweet on his lips and trailing his own mouth down Ian’s rough chin, along the hard dip of his collarbone before wasting no time to drop to his knees and unzip Ian’s pants, pulling them down to his knees. His mouth watered at the outline of Ian’s hard cock beneath his blue briefs. Anthony didn’t know Ian had any briefs, always thinking he only wore boxers and tried not to laugh. Instead, he looked up at Ian with a predatory smirk, taking in the flushed angular face, heaving chest and eyes fluttering closed.</p><p>“It’s my turn now, remember?” Anthony whispered against the smooth tight cotton briefs and took out Ian’s hot cock, pressing it against his cheek, feeling the silky soft skin and letting it slide into his mouth leaving a trail of wetness across his face.</p><p>“Holy shit,” Ian breathed, weaving his fingers into Anthony’s hair and pushing himself further in. Anthony couldn’t help but smile, feeling incredibly proud, as he looked up at Ian again, red-faced and biting his lip, trying not to scream but failing miserably as he let out the occasional loud, “Fuck, Anthony!” He sucked harder and tried his best to fit and swallow all of Ian in his mouth. He licked and traced the head of Ian’s cock, kneading the clenched ass with his hands until, not much later, he could practically feel Ian’s knees going weak as he came. He slammed himself into Anthony one last time so hard Anthony almost gagged as liquid heat shot down his throat. Breathless, he stood up, painting Ian’s chest with kisses and then they were kissing and it seemed Ian didn’t mind tasting himself and even licked the corner of Anthony’s mouth clean. They had fistfuls of hair and shirts that stretched and tore and could never be worn again. Their hips and dying erections danced together in a sheen of sweat with the sharp smell of sex dripping off their shaking bodies.</p><p>Anthony felt so drunk, with the dwindling effects of ecstasy, with the absolute smugness of bringing another to a shuddering, heaving mess, and with just Ian, who was smiling and pressing quick kisses all over Anthony. Ian was <i>so</i> good – so so so very <i>good – </i>and Anthony pressed another deep, open-mouthed kiss on him.</p><p>“You suck,” Anthony said for lack of nothing better to say and smiled. He breathed in Ian’s scent and kissed him again, running his hands through the short soft hairs on the back of Ian’s neck.</p><p>Ian hummed and again, like a cat, rubbed his face against the side of Anthony’s face. “Yeah, next time,” he whispered, sending already new vibrating shivers down and into Anthony’s cock that was brushed right up against Ian’s. “But not here. Maybe in the car? Or behind the Seven-Eleven? Or maybe –”</p><p>“Shut up,” Anthony said and bucked into Ian for good measure. It earned him a soft gasp and Ian tugging at his shirt. “Keep your pants on, you big slut.”</p><p>“Whatever,” Ian said, head back and looking up at Anthony with the stupidest, most – and he would never admit it again – cutest grin ever. “I’m not the one that blew a guy in a bar.”</p><p>Anthony smiled back and was about to silence Ian with another dizzying kiss when the slight creak of the stall door moving all on its own stopped him. He peeked out of the stall and looked around the washroom, relieved that it was still empty, and groaned, “Holy fuck, we didn’t even lock the stall door!”</p><p><br/>
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